


Real / Not Real

by mosylu



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: 3x1 speculation, Alternate Universe, Flashpoint (DCU), Gen, Mental Institutions, also a little bit of Barrisco, if you're looking, oooo Barry messed up, tw: Mentions of Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 17:11:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7516381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosylu/pseuds/mosylu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s the real and there’s the not-real, and he knows the difference.</p>
<p>A possible start to season 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real / Not Real

**Author's Note:**

> Over on Tumblr, I challenged several other writers to do a possible 3x1 first scene. This is what I came up with.

He’s sitting on the windowsill, fiddling with a piece of string, working it through his fingers in a crazy cat’s-cradle, then dropping it and picking it apart so he could tangle it up again.

They used to take these away from him. Afraid he’d weave a noose and hang himself. Which is stupid. For one thing, he hasn’t tried to kill himself since he was at least eighteen.

For another, he wouldn’t use a noose. Pills are better.

So, yeah, they’ve figured that out, and he gets to have his string to fiddle with so he won’t drive the whole ward crazy with toe-tapping and finger-drumming because he always needs to be moving in some little way.

Ha-ha.

Crazier.

Ha-ha-ha.

The door opens. “Got a new roommate for you,” an orderly says brightly.

The new guy is a white dude, a tall drink of water. Like everyone else on this ward, he’s dressed in bland blue scrubs and his hair is buzzed short. It looks fresh. Little pink patches of scalp shine through.

“This is Barry. Barry, this is - ”

“Cisco!” Barry gasps.

His stomach twists. He reminds himself that Cisco is a common enough nickname for his given name, just not the one he uses. “Actually, it’s Paco. Nice to meet you.”

“No, no, you’re Cisco! Is Caitlin here?”

Paco’s stomach jolts at that name. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says evenly. “No Caitlin here, and no Cisco either. It’s Paco.”

Barry rubs his hands over his face. “Sorry,” he mumbles into his palms. “I know people don’t always have the same names. I’m just so happy to see you.”

The orderly looks at Paco, concerned.

Paco shakes his head. Barry is a little disconnected. It happens. He’s not lunging for Paco’s throat, so you know. That’s a step up from the last guy.

“Barry,” the orderly says. “I need you to take your pills, okay?” He holds out a little paper cup that rattles.

“I don’t do pills,” Barry says.

“Well you do them now,” the orderly says cheerfully. “Down the hatch.”

“They don’t work on me,” Barry says. “My metabolism is too fast. Same with alcohol.” He looks at Paco. “Dude, tell him.”

“You can tell the doc later and he’ll fix it, but we got better things to do than fight with the nice orderly, right?”

“But they won’t work.”

“What’s the harm if you take ‘em, then?” Paco says. “C'mon. Humor ol’ Tony. He’s just trying to do his job.”

Barry sighs and takes the little paper cup. When the orderly watched him swallow them, and checked under his tongue, he leaves.

Barry lets out his breath in a whoosh. “I thought he would never leave. Cisco, this is amazing. I can’t believe I found you like this. I - ”

“Not Cisco,” Paco says. “I told you.”

Barry laughs and comes to sit on the foot of his cheap particleboard bedframe, a few feet away from Paco. “Man, come on. You were saying that for the orderly. Sneaky as hell, dude. Smart.” He beams at Paco like an escaped sunbeam.

“No,” Paco says. “I was saying that 'cause it’s true.”

The sunbeam clouds over. “You - you really believe that? You don’t remember me?”

Paco feels like he kicked a puppy. “Dude, we just met,” he says gently. “There’s nothing to remember.”

Red lightning crackles across his brain for a moment. It’s not real.

“But I know you. Why else would we get in the same room?”

Wow. That’s as non a sequitur as he’s ever heard. “Okay, dude, I’m going to lay it down for you,” Paco says. “I’m one of the good kids. I’ve been here off and on since I was fifteen, juvie and then adult ward. They put newbies in here with me so I can help teach them how to deal, you get me? I know real from not-real. When real comes knocking, I answer. When not-real sneaks in the door, I put the covers over my head and wait for it to go away. It’s how you deal.”

Barry leans forward. “What do you see that’s not real?”

“It doesn’t matter, because it’s not real. That’s what I’m sayin’, man.”

His eyes go all Bambi. “Tell me anyway. Please?”

And for some reason, Paco does. “A man running at the speed of lightning,” he whispers. “A man on fire - a woman trying to put herself back together.”

Icicles and bitter blue eyes flicker behind his eyelids. They’re not real.

“And you,” Barry says. “You? What can you do that’s not real?”

“I can touch things - and see things - and - I - I can tear holes in the universe - ”

Power shivers around his fingertips, and the not-real starts to suck him in. He shakes his head hard. “See? It’s definitely not real.”

“Cisco. You remember. You do.”

“No, I told you. That’s the not-real. Okay? You can’t pay any attention to that. I don’t know why I told you.”

“No, but it is! It’s real. It’s not real here, but it’s real somewhere, and I need to get back there.” He starts to cry, folding himself up like a paper crane. “Cisco, I messed up. I messed up so bad.”

“Hey,” Paco says quietly, reaching out and wrapping his hands over Barry’s clenched fists. “Hey, man. Bro.”

For some reason, the word “bro” eases Barry’s tension, makes him smile even through his tears.

"I’ll help you, okay?” Paco says. “You need help. So I’ll help you.”

“You will?”

“Yeah, we’ll start tomorrow, okay? Right now, you’ve had a long day. How about a siesta, huh, man?” He’d seen the pills the orderly gave him. “Bet you’re feeling kinda sluggish. You wanna crash for awhile?”

“That’d be nice,” Barry mumbles. “Yeah. Just a little while. Then when I wake up, we’ll talk, bro.” He reaches out and squeezes Paco’s shoulder. Even though touching is discouraged (especially that near the neck), Paco allows it, because it feels really, really good somehow. “We’ll figure this out.”

“Sure will,” Paco soothes, pulling him up (shit, he’s tall!) and leading him around to the side of the bed so he can flump down on the thin mattress.

Barry keeps rambling. “I’m so sorry. I’ll fix it, with your help. You’re the only one who can help me fix it.” Barry buries his face in Paco’s chest a moment.

He allows that too.

"I was so selfish,” Barry slurs. “I only thought about my mom and my dad, but I lost too much. You and Caitlin and Wally and Joe - and _Iris_ \- ”

That last name is like a prayer. It’s almost a shame Iris doesn’t exist.

Barry lifts his head. His eyes shine with tears. “I kissed her. Did I tell you that?”

“Yeah? That’s cool. She hot?”

“She’s beautiful. And she loves me.” Barry starts to cry in earnest again. “She loves me, and she kissed me, and she wants to be with me, and I messed it all up.”

Paco rubs the back of Barry’s neck, feeling the knots of tension. “It’s okay, bro,” he says. “We’ll fix it. We’ll fix all of it. You and me. Just, after your nap, okay? Lie down.”

“Okay,” Barry whimpers, like a child. “Okay.”

He curls his long body into a ball and settles his head on the pillow. Although tears still shine in his eyes, and one trickles over the bridge of his nose, he smiles up at Paco. “I’m so glad I found you, man. It’s proof. The universe really does want us to be bros.”

Paco watches his eyelids droop, then goes and sits in the window again, tangling the string in his fingers.

There’s a knock at the door, and Paco looks up in time to see the thin, kind-faced head of the ward come in.

“Hey, Dr. Wells,” he says.

“I thought I’d check in on our newest guest,” the doctor says. “How is he?”

He opens his mouth to make his report and hesitates.

If he tells Dr. Wells that the new guy went head-deep into his delusions, that Paco had somehow set them off, Barry will get moved.

Paco doesn’t want that.

Barry’s barely holding on, but hell, who in this ward can say better? Not always Paco, that’s for sure. Barry’s a nice guy. Sweet. Once Paco gets him calmed down, gets him used to the way things are in here, he’ll settle in. He’ll probably be a pretty decent roomie until they move him out of here for the next newbie.

Anyway, Barry’s emotional outburst was Paco’s fault, for letting Barry talk him into letting out the not-real. He won’t do that again. It’s not any good for either one of them.

_He called you Cisco,_ the not-real croons. _And he said the name Caitlin._

_Coincidence,_ he tells himself. They’re names. Lots of people have those names, and it doesn’t mean anything that they float by in the not-real so often. And just because his eyes lit up when Paco talked about the running man, or the holes in the universe - it doesn’t mean anything. Paco’s dealt with a lot of new roomies who would jump on any delusional bandwagon and strap in, yelling “wheee!”

There’s the real and there’s the not-real, and he knows the difference.

“Paco?” Dr. Wells prompts.

“He’ll be okay, I think.”

“Well. Good.”

“Although - ”

“Yes?”

Paco glances over at the occupant of the other bed. “If you ask me, that guy needs some heavy duty meds,” he says. “Heavier than they put him on today. He is seriously disconnected from reality.”

FINIS


End file.
